


La morte mi trovera vivo

by Seulira



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Death, Other, The Lazaret (The Arcana)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 23:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18509662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seulira/pseuds/Seulira
Summary: Asra finds his apprentice... in a way.





	La morte mi trovera vivo

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I got cried at when I showed this to a friend, so sorry, I guess
> 
> Just an angsty blurb I wanted to get out
> 
> If you want to yell at me, you can at my Arcana tumblr: @eerie-apprentice

Asra felt the island before he saw it. The constant rowing left his arms weak, and his disposition weaker. Back turned towards his destination, a cold feeling crept into his limbs. He came in hopes that he could get to you before fate did. That he could apologize and hold you and tell you he loved you even if it meant he got sick too. 

When his boat hit the edge of the earth, he shuddered. 

He climbed slowly from the vessel. 

His knees were like jelly as he moved towards the back of the building. 

The air was unnaturally still, the only sound- the crunch of sand as he moved.

His bare feet left tracks. 

When he reached one of the windows, he cleared a spot to see. Pressing his nose against the glass, he felt his breath catch. 

The building was empty. 

No line of people awaiting the furnace. 

No guards.

No you. 

 

No. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the last he saw of you. He ran to other side of the building, heart pounding in time with the dust rising in his wake. The looming figures in front of him caused him to skid to a halt. Dark, rippling mounds rose from the earth, nearly as tall as he was. A breeze kicked up some of the hill and sent it into his face. He sputtered. Ash. It felt as though the blood drained from his face and into his legs as he fell to his knees. A primal sound he didn’t recognize tore itself out of his throat, and he found himself searching for you before he could even think. The image of clearing the ash and finding you whole and unhurt kept him moving. He saw your face in the pale glints of bone shards littering the dust. He dug faster, stretching his magic as deep underground as he could, as if you were just hiding down there, waiting for him. Nothing answered but the sound of the waves lapping at the darkened sand. The unnatural chill from the terror in his chest prevented him from noticing the sweat dripping down this face until it obscured his vision. He wiped violently, smearing the ash into his skin and hair. He stopped wiping when he realized the clouds in his eyes were just tears, welling over the brim and spilling down his cheeks. A sob forced him to stop and he felt his chest tighten. He sucked in a sharp intake of gritty air and made his way to the next pile, lost in the need to find you. 

When Muriel's boat hit the sands, he grabbed the red scarf from the shore without giving it a second thought. The heat was stifling and the smell wasn't much better. For once, he would have rather seen the island filled with people. It had been almost three days since he had heard from Asra. He hasn't been in any of his usual spots, but the dirty scarf confirmed his worry. Following the unsteady footprints, Muriel rounded the building and found him. The figure was curled up on the ground, not moving. Muriel felt a panic grip his throat. He surged forward and dropped beside him, shaking his shoulder. “Asra... Asra? Wake up- come on, I need you here-” A note of desperation tinged his gruff voice. Asra's dull eyes slowly slid open, looking first to whatever was clutched in his hand, then to the man beside him. As he turned to face him fully, the larger man saw tear tracks had cut through the layer of ash on his face. “Muri… m'sorry… I just… I found them…” his voice was thin and scratchy, fresh tears pooling in his eyes. Muriel's brows knitted together in confusion as Asra's thin, bloodied fingers unfurled. His stomach dropped when he saw the jagged piece of bone in the palm of his hand. This place was breaking him. “We need to go home.” Muriel's voice was as soft but quick, leaving no room for argument. When he tried helping the magician stand, however, it was apparent he wouldn't be able to. Instead, Asra was lifted gently into his friend's arms. Muriel briefly considered washing the ash off of him, but the grimy film sitting on top of the water decided for him. Instead, he set Asra in the boat and made way for home, a dark feeling settling over him.


End file.
